


Small Certainties

by emungere



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-20
Updated: 2006-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Simon was working in the hospital on Osiris, one of his friends came in with a skull fracture from a fall. Simon was pushed aside, and the operation was left to someone else. One does not work on friends and family. Justin died before he regained consciousness.</p>
<p>All Simon does now is operate on friends and family, some closer than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Certainties

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **inalasahl** in the NSP ficathon. Many thanks to **justblue0162** for the beta. Future AU, or at least AU to the movie.

The second war has been hard on all of them.

This is the third time in the past two months that Inara has ended up unconscious on Simon's operating table. The first was shock and blood loss. The second, a blow to the head. The third time is not, in this case, a charm. 

Her face is oddly peaceful considering the chain of bullet holes stitched like a bloody belt around her waist. Her lips seem redder than usual, almost like she has taken to wearing make-up again. It's only because of the contrasting white of her bloodless face, Simon knows, but she is still beautiful.

The surgery is done. All the bullets are out; all the repairs he can make to her stomach and intestinal tract have been made.

He's left with only the cleaning up to occupy himself, and he spends whole minutes wetting a cotton swab and wiping away a streak of dirt from her forehead.

***

_Three years earlier_

Simon knocks on the door to Inara's shuttle and hears a voice from within. He can't quite make out the words, but she's probably telling him to come in. He's not Mal, after all, and she seldom denies entry to anyone else.

He swings the door open and steps inside.

By the bed, Inara stands with her mouth open, one foot forward as if caught on her way somewhere. Possibly, to lock the door, since she doesn't look at all happy about Simon's presence.

She is wearing shorts that used to be pants, cut off just above the knees and belted at her waist to keep them up. Her t-shirt is a dingy white, and her hair is pulled back into a hasty ponytail. A streak of dirt cuts across her left cheek.

Even so, she smiles at him, hands smoothing over her shorts as if they are her usual silk.

"Simon, what a pleasure. How can I help you?"

He's only brought her the vitamin pills he's been pushing on all of Serenity's crew. She is probably least in need of them, as the only person aboard who seems to have a concept of proper nutrition. He could hand them over, leave, and spare them both any more embarrassment.

Instead, unable to say why, he bows a little, calling on half-forgotten phrases that, thanks to his mother, will never entirely leave him.

"You already have," he says. "It would surely be rude to ask for more than your presence."

He feels himself flush, feels like a fool, though not as much as he did when he was forced to say these things to strangers at his mother's parties. At least with Inara, it's true.

Anyway, the words have the desired effect. Inara is practiced at putting herself at ease in any situation, but her smile is more genuine now.

"Such a gentleman," she says, "even when I hardly look like a lady."

"You're cleaning?" he asks, because, polite phrases or no, he's not that smooth, and he'll get himself in trouble if he tries to pretend he is.

"Yes." She hesitates. "I wouldn't usually... I need to take the draperies down so they can be cleaned when we reach Ouroboros, and I can't quite-- The hook is caught." She glances upwards and then holds her finger up for inspection. There is a cut across the knuckle, though not a deep one.

A few minutes later, instead of bandaging her wound, he finds himself standing on tiptoe on the edge of her bed, trying to unhook yards of silk from her ceiling.

"Are you sure this comes off?"

"The shuttle certainly didn't come like this."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather ask Mal?"

And then, perhaps predictably, it comes unstuck and tumbles him to the floor under a pile of fabric so large it takes him the better part of a minute to dig his way out of it.

Inara is laughing quietly and apologizing, trying to help.

"It's all right," he says. "I think the circus tent cushioned my fall."

"Circus tent? Please, Simon, my sisters at Madrassa wove these for me themselves."

But she is smiling. He always forgets what a relief it is to spend time with her--the only person on Serenity who speaks his language.

"I apologize," he says. "The captain must be rubbing off on me."

He didn't mean it as an insult, but a shadow passes over her face anyway. His mouth is always getting him in trouble here, even when he thinks he's safe.

He stands. "I should go."

"No," she says. Her expression softens. "You should stay. And take tea with me."

A few minutes later, with the hangings folded into a bundle of shining color and gold threads in the corner, they sip tea so delicate it seems to evaporate on the tongue. The scent of jasmine hangs in the air, light and subtle.

"You mentioned the captain," Inara says, after a silence. She looks as if she is steeling herself for something. "I would hesitate to ask him for help. With anything."

"You don't want to be indebted to him."

Simon can understand that. He owes Mal his life, and his sister's, but Mal tends to equate protection with possession.

"No," Inara says. "Yes. Perhaps. I don't know. I would like us to be equals."

Mal doesn't do 'equals.' There is only above or below, under his wing or on a pedestal.

"I see," is all Simon says, but maybe she can hear the doubt in his voice.

"I'm not in love with him," she says, too suddenly. Mal is always where her grace breaks down.

Simon knows she's lying. He rises and sets his cup down. He is careful to turn it so the deliberate imperfection in the glaze faces his host, as is proper. He can't decide whether such things are less important out here, or even more important. He suspects that they are, at least, important to her.

"Thank you for the tea."

He turns to go, but she touches him, just above his hip, and he can feel the warmth of her fingers through his shirt.

"Thank you for your help," is all she says, but she looks as if she'd like to say more.

He smiles. "Any time."

After a second of hesitation, he bends down to wipe the streak of dirt off her cheek.

***

When Simon was working in the hospital on Osiris, one of his friends came in with a skull fracture from a fall. Simon was pushed aside, and the operation was left to someone else. One does not work on friends and family. Justin died before he regained consciousness.

All Simon does now is operate on friends and family, some closer than others.

When he's done everything he can do, he pulls up a stool and sits by Inara's side. The rest of the ship is dark and still by the time she opens her eyes.

She tries to say something, but her voice is too dry. He gives her a few sips of water.

"Ring?" she says.

He pulls the chain he wears around his neck over his head and slips it over hers. The gold ring on it lies on her chest, and she smiles a little as she touches it.

"It's warm," she says.

He lays his hand over hers, and she smoothes her thumb over the matching gold circle on his ring finger. She refuses to take it with her on missions in case it gets lost, so he keeps both of them while she's gone. Neither of them have ever mentioned the fact that, if she fails, her ring will be all he'll have left to bury. The chances of being able to retrieve her body are small.

_If the jobs was safe,_ Jayne said once, _they wouldn't need doing, and they sure as hell wouldn't call us._

River says the war will be over soon. Simon hopes that's true. But he _knows_ that Inara will be here with him, recovering from her injuries, for at least a month.

He squeezes her hand gently, and she smiles at him.

There was a time, even after their marriage, when her first questions upon her return from a mission were about Mal. Later, she asked after everyone, but meant Mal.

Now she asks for her ring.

Small certainties are better than large hopes.


End file.
